


First Time

by Chromi



Series: Deuce-centric [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Love, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Coital Cuddling, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:28:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromi/pseuds/Chromi
Summary: "Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very centre."In which Ace and Deuce go all the way for the first time.





	First Time

**Author's Note:**

> This... spiralled out of control. I have never been able to write a sex scene that lasted for more than perhaps 2000 words, and when I sat down to start this, I told myself "you are going to do this properly." And, well, I don't know if I achieved that or not, but hey, you get a lot of words and a lot of these boys being absolute cuties.

He is nervous.

More nervous than he has ever been in his life, he guesses, as he knocks once, twice, on the door he is stood before.

His heart flutters in his chest as it creaks a little on opening, and his captain - he will _always _be his captain, regardless of Whitebeard now being his father - blinks up at him, beautiful and handsome and every bit as nervous as he himself is. He has showered - Deuce can tell from the subtle hint of that coconut body wash he and the other commanders kept having furious fights with.

“Deuce,” Ace smiles at him, his voice soft, his stance open, “come in. You don’t need to knock.”

Deuce ducks his head in a nod and crosses the threshold, hearing the door click closed behind him again. He counts them lucky, not for the first time, that Ace is a commander and thus gets his own private room, no matter how small it is - he doesn’t think they could ever hope to pull this off otherwise, the thought of getting intimate in his shared room in the first division entirely laughable.

Because that’s the reason why he is here, the reason why he is so tense and already trembling with nerves. It’ll be his first time ever, and he’s fairly certain it will be Ace’s as well. He doesn’t want to ask the question just in case, finding the thought of Ace being passionate with anyone else to be something that makes his blood boil, but on that same note he cannot help his curiosity.

“Just us, huh?” Deuce says in a feeble attempt at a joke, a bad habit of his that creeps out whenever the tension gets too much within him. Ace turns to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise, and Deuce wishes he could learn when to keep his mouth shut.

“Why?” Ace prods, smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, “who else do you want in here?”

Deuce flounders, helpless. “No one, I don’t want…”

Ace’s hand is in his in an instant, fingers sliding sure between his own and gripping them tight. Ace stretches up and kisses him softly on the lips, far too brief, and Deuce leans into the touch that disappears before he really registers its there.

He loves him. Entirely and completely. Ace, if Deuce is being strictly unbiased and professional, is perfect in every conceivable way imaginable, right down to the very last freckle. He wants this, wants the man who guides him through the darkness of life like the sun, wants to know this last part of him and claim it as his own. Deuce had never considered himself a possessive man before knowing Ace, but in that instant on Sixis when he saw Ace backlit by the jewel-bright sea, he knew he would never be able to contemplate giving him up in any sense of the word.

He has loved him since the day they had escaped the island that fate had dictated would be Deuce’s final resting place. Ace had saved him in both body and soul, cleansing him of his decision to avoid all interpersonal relationships for the rest of his life and replacing that cloud of self-doubt with a fierce, burning inferno of unstoppable devotion for his newfound captain.

He still sometimes wakes at night in a cold sweat, pulled from dreaming that Ace had turned down his spluttered confession while they were still with the Spade pirates, that he had never taken Deuce by the chin and guided him down for their first kiss while on watch together one balmy summer evening. He counts himself to be the luckiest man alive every day he is with Ace both before and after that incredible evening of his first kiss ever, loving him and learning him and wishing he could scream his affections from the crow’s nest of the Moby Dick for all to hear.

But he knows better than to do that.

Deuce pulls Ace back into his body to kiss him again, to kiss him properly and let him know without fail that he wants this right now. He wants to be here, to go through with what they have been planning for weeks, both breaking out into furious blushes whenever they discuss it in hasty whispers. Thatch, Ace’s good friend, did not help matters by continuously insisting they “just hurry up and fuck already.”

_Fuck_. Such a crude word. It rings sharp in Deuce’s ears each time Thatch laughs it at them, and he cringes at the thought of it. _Fucking _is something reserved for chasing pleasure in another’s body for one’s own satisfaction and gain, not for holding someone so dear and precious to him and feeling them come undone under his lips and fingers. He wants to hold Ace, to be held by Ace, to convey his love and his adoration in a way that words will never hope to suffice. He wants to make love to him, to make Ace see stars, to set fire to his blood in ways that his power cannot achieve.

As cheesy as Ace insists he sounds whenever he vocalises his thoughts on the matter, Deuce wants to make this special for him. For both of them.

“I’ve got everything we need,” Ace breathes as they part, looking up at him through his lashes in that alluring manner that has Deuce’s mouth literally watering for another taste of him. “I’m…” his gaze drops to Deuce’s shoulder, then flickers back up to his eyes, “I’m ready if you are.”

Deuce’s brain inconveniently drops down to the gutter in an instant, tricked by the flush of color that spreads across Ace’s cheeks. He swallows thick as his mind whirls. “You’re ready?” he clarifies, and Ace nods. “You mean you’ve prepped yourself?”

The gentle dapple of pink explodes into furious red, and Ace looks more embarrassed than Deuce has ever seen him. He can’t lie; the effect is rather endearing, albeit maybe not one he wants to see right now, given the circumstances.

“No,” Ace manages, “No, I haven’t. I was… I mean…” he huffs, a shaky breath leaving him all in one go, “I want you to do it.”

Deuce’s thoughts catch up with him and he realises far, _far _too late that no, of course that was not what Ace had meant in the first place. He looks to the bed - any excuse to tear his eyes away from his partner’s to hide his own oncoming wave of embarrassment - and he sees the small bottle sat on the tiny nightstand beside the tissues, waiting, expectant.

“Oh,” he manages, and yet his racing thoughts still insist on showing him the most wonderful image of Ace on his bed, knees spread and hand between his own thighs, fingers slipping in and out of himself and panting Deuce’s name. The thought alone sends seemingly all of his blood rushing down to pool in his groin, leaving him momentarily dizzy.

“Hey.”

His attention snaps back to Ace, and Deuce wonders if his captain can hear his heart pounding against his ribs right now.

“If you’d rather not, then I don’t mind… doing it myself,” Ace says, and by the looks of it it costs him great effort to do so.

It is tempting in its own right, but not an experience that Deuce wants to forego for anything in the world. He has experimented on his own body in those few moments he can steal away from his division in the bathroom, sliding a finger home to learn what to expect when the time finally came for them to become one (another embarrassing phrase of Deuce’s that makes Ace groan in distress). They hadn’t decided on who would top until that morning, neither having a preference either way and finally resorting to flipping a coin to choose for them, and he knows, as if he has always known which way up the coin would drop, that he wants to feel Ace’s body relax and accept him like he was able to make his own do.

Yet Deuce wasn’t sure if he was happy with the outcome or not, honestly speaking - both were good, so very _very _good, but this way gave him a power, or rather, the expectation of control, over Ace, over the flow of the night. He had somehow always assumed that Ace would be the one to top, although he can’t deny that this way had pervaded the occasional daydream when his mind turned to lustful thoughts.

But Ace’s lips to his steer him back to reality and away from his worries, and Ace guides his hands to lay at his waist. Deuce angles his head better to deepen the kiss, to open his mouth to the gentle pressure of Ace’s tongue licking sure and willing between his lips. It’s a feeling that he will never tire of, that sweet, tender touch that can turn rough and passionate in a heartbeat.

But Ace keeps their rhythm slow and calm as he walks them backwards towards the bed, leading Deuce with a hand to the back of his neck and an unbroken kiss beckoning him in closer.

He breaks it with a sigh and sits when the backs of his legs make contact with the bed, and Deuce follows as he has done so many times before during their evenings of fevered makeout sessions and wandering hands up each other’s bodies. He kneels between Ace’s parted thighs and shrugs off his jacket, letting it fall to the floor and remain there. Ace’s hands are at his jawline immediately, sliding warm to gently pull him down by the back of his neck to cover his lover completely. Their teeth clack as they meet again with more heat, and Ace smiles against his lips at the sound.

Ace always tastes and smells good, Deuce thinks. Of course, he doesn’t have anything to compare him with, given that Ace is his first of everything, but that doesn’t stop him from being intoxicating and capable of leaving Deuce breathless from nothing more than his own unique scent. Ace knows not of Deuce’s thievery, of the fact that his former first mate has a habit of stealing away things that Ace has worn or kept on his person for a time, used to comfort him during those lonely nights when Ace is away from the crew and the pain of separation becomes too much for Deuce.

Deuce trails kisses down Ace’s neck slowly, pausing to pay special attention to the spot over his carotid that makes Ace gasp. Firm, large hands cup and stroke along Ace’s chest as Deuce continues down on his journey south, massaging the pectoral muscles with enthusiasm before pinching to tweak his pink nipples red. Ace sighs into the contact, his back arching a little, and Deuce glances up at him to watch the effects of his handiwork. This is familiar, and this is territory they have covered plenty of times, taking advantage of Ace’s room to hide away and grow keenly intimate with one another’s bodies through trailing touches and kisses mouthed to trembling skin.

But this will be the first time they have gone further than mutual masturbation, finally bridging that gap in their relationship when Deuce, not Ace, felt he was ready to take the step. Ace, it had transpired upon direct questioning, had been waiting patiently for near enough a year, himself in no hurry to make his partner do anything he wasn’t entirely ready for yet.

And Deuce is so, _so _ready for this step now, no longer bound by his worries that he will not be good enough, or will be a disappointment. He believes Ace now when he says that it will be perfect, that Deuce has nothing to worry about, that Ace wants _him _and whatever he can offer by being himself.

The desire to know Ace, his single most beloved person, burns in Deuce’s chest as he reaches the zipper of Ace’s shorts, the final destination in his downwards quest. In one easy motion he has it pulled down and the button popped open. He looks up at Ace, his face a scant few inches from the prominent tent jutting out of his underwear, and he sees something dark and heavy in Ace’s eyes that hasn’t been there before. Not like _this_, at least. He has seen Ace aroused many times, but never to this degree, never carrying the raw desire to bond as they will.

Deuce smiles to himself as he drops his gaze to the damp spot that is forming at the top of the tent in the red underwear; Ace hates it when Deuce refers to sex as bonding. Ace hates it all, all the cutesy words and phrases that Deuce says without thinking, raging red and blustering on about how he is _embarrassing _and _impossible to talk to_ when he gets poetic with his love. Yet Deuce never stops.

Ace’s head drops backwards into the pillow when Deuce mouths at his erection through his underwear, taking his time to feel him, to map out the shape and length of him and breathe in his scent. It makes Deuce ache with want, his hips twitching forward into nothing, and suddenly his pants feel too tight. Ace lifts his hips to the feel of Deuce’s hands coaxing them upwards, rising off the bed just enough to allow Deuce to pull his shorts and boxer briefs off in one slow, sure movement.

“Oh, Ace…”

Deuce moans at the sight of him so aroused already, thick and tight against his lower abdomen once he is freed of his clothes. Ace visibly swells beneath him, and Deuce watches as precum beads at the flushed head. He lowers his face and Ace’s breath hitches just _so_, giving away what this must be doing to him. Deuce takes him in hand and angles his erection upwards, licking his lips with both nerves and anticipation at what he is about to try for the first time.

“Y-You don’t have to,” Ace gasps, and Deuce looks up at him through his eyelashes to see Ace shifting, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view. His words would carry more weight if he didn’t look so excited by the prospect of getting his dick between his partner’s lips.

“I know,” Deuce says simply, and with a flurry of nervous butterflies he descends, sucking the tip into his mouth.

He would be lying if he said he knew exactly what to do with a cock in his mouth, but Deuce is fairly confident that Ace would be equally as clueless if they were in each other’s positions. Regardless of whether he is getting it right or not he pulls his desired response from Ace, groaning at the feel of fingers curling into his pale hair and hips twitching beneath him. It fuels him, this clear message that he is getting _something _right, and Deuce sucks gently to test him.

His tongue is coated with salty precum at once, Ace sighing hot and arching his back into the feel of it, and Deuce decides he loves the taste of his partner. He loves the reason behind it, too, the knowledge that he is making Ace feel good, and he does his best to one-up himself.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Deuce groans, meaning it entirely, caught in the way Ace’s abdominal muscles tremble at the momentary loss of lips surrounding his length. Ace huffs a small laugh, not believing him, because Ace never believes him when he says things like this, never understanding how Deuce could find him physically attractive, and so Deuce tries harder to convey his meaning. “Ace,” he says, and Ace looks him in the eyes, “you have no idea how good you look right now.”

Ace’s gaze drops, pink staining his cheeks. “Right back at you,” he says quietly, and Deuce’s heart swells with unbidden affection for him.

He lowers his mouth back down to his lover. Ace gasps and sighs with every careful bob of Deuce’s head, the drag of his lips gradually fully pulling the foreskin down to expose the frenulum completely, and Deuce takes care to pay attention to it. Ace jerks up into that first swipe of tongue to the erogenous zone, a low moan catching in his throat at the second pass, transforming into a soft cry as Deuce experiments flicking along it continuously. Ace writhes below him, gripping his hair in his fingers, and Deuce swallows the flood of precum that surges forth. Ace tastes _amazing_, and Deuce curls a hand around the base of his dick to work up the shaft as well, pulling a deep, guttural groan from his captain as he keeps his tongue focused on that band of skin. It sets Deuce’s nerves ablaze, tingling along his arms and leaving him feeling a little light-headed, bombarded with new sensations and a fast-growing need in himself because Ace feels _so good_ on his tongue, in his mouth, down his throat when he returns to sucking on him in earnest, gagging as he takes him all the way to the root.

“_Deuce_,” Ace moans over the wet noises Deuce cannot hold back, “_Deuce_, fuck, God, I need you, need _this_.”

Deuce groans around him, not slowing the rhythm that he has built up. He pulls another gasp of pleasure from Ace when he cups his balls with his free hand, supporting his weight on his elbow. He massages the sac, stroking firm over the skin in time with the bob of his head, and he just catches sight of Ace slamming the back of his head into the pillow with a small, frustrated noise that does nothing to hide the underlying current of arousal in his voice.

Saliva drips from his chin as he releases Ace with a _pop, _teeth tugging at his lower lip in an effort to keep himself somewhat calm, feeling how swollen the flesh is. “_Yes_,” Deuce hisses, long and low and heavy with that hot, throbbing desire that won’t stop building inside of him, rivalling the roiling nerves that still flutter in his stomach. He doesn’t have any other words to convey how badly he wants this, how much he wants to make Ace feel good and come undone around him, _because of _him. This is his greatest fantasy right here, legs spread around him and cock flushed and weeping, Ace’s chest rising and falling and his eyes clouded with want _for him_.

Because it is Ace, and it will only ever be Ace, that he wants to see like this, and he wants to be responsible for unravelling him down to his core and loving him to his very centre.

Ace understands, at least, and looks pleased with Deuce’s ragged response. He sits up all of a sudden and encourages Deuce to lean in on his knees, flatly ignoring his protest that he is covered in saliva and precum, and Ace slips his tongue inside Deuce’s mouth with an exhale of breath. He _must _be able to taste himself on Deuce’s tongue, yet he doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, kissing him utterly breathless and leaving him physically aching in his pants that he was too short-sighted to remove earlier.

Ace notices. But then again, Ace notices almost everything.

“Can I…?” he starts, his hands already on Deuce’s belt, and it only takes a small nod from Deuce to get Ace to unbuckle him. They shift together, Ace pulling the pants and underwear off him as Deuce maneuvers to wriggle free, and he sighs as his clothes are tossed carelessly over his lover’s shoulder.

He barely has time to collect his thoughts before Ace’s hand is on him, gripping him, thumb rubbing gently into the slit of his cock; he gasps at the sudden pressure and Ace takes his chance to melt into him, chest to chest and lips to lips. Deuce pulls him closer by the back of his head and the curve of his spine, his kisses sloppy and messy, finesse having been discarded, apparently, along with his clothes. His hips jerk into Ace’s touch and he feels the other man smile against his lips.

“I love you,” Deuce whimpers against Ace’s tongue, the confession pulled from seemingly nowhere and yet everywhere all at once, “Ace, I love you _so much_.”

“Me too,” Ace is breathless against his lips, the words leaving him in a pant, as he flicks his wrist up to twist at the sensitive head. Deuce moans low, the sound swallowed by Ace eagerly. “I love you too, Deuce.”

His blood is pounding in his ears at Ace’s words, never tiring of them and never quite ready to hear them even though he knows they are coming, eternally caught off guard by his captain’s affections. It’s silly, really, given that they have been saying those three words for about a year by now to each other, and they certainly wouldn’t be about to sleep together for the first time if it wasn’t the case, yet it still catches in his chest and renders him momentarily helpless to the warmth that spreads throughout his body, right down to his fingertips.

Deuce squints his eyes open from the kiss as he feels Ace twist in his arms, reaching behind himself for something, for… _oh_.

The bottle of lube is pressed into his chest by trembling fingers, and Deuce breaks the kiss to peer at Ace. His cheeks are flushed, that blush refusing to leave him, it seems, but he looks sure, set, and excited. Deuce smiles at him, and he hopes the spike of nerves that pierces his insides doesn’t show on his face.

His excitement is evident in his cock, though, as Ace wipes his thumb through the precum that beads there, his small smile twisting into a hungry grin. Deuce thinks he is gorgeous.

Without a word, Deuce takes the bottle in hand and carefully pushes Ace down to lie supine once again, leaning over him to kiss him tenderly, slowly, relishing the simple tug of lips to his own before Ace speaks.

“Do you…” he is silenced, lips sliding passionately together in an open-mouthed kiss, before he places a warm palm to Deuce’s shoulder to stop him for a moment. “Do you know what to do?”

More kisses, this time back to hungry and edging into urgent, as Deuce understands what Ace is referring to. God, _yes_, he knows what to do, more or less. He knows the theory, of course, of having sex with another man. It was not the kind of topic that he could research in his medical books, instead having to rely on the knowledge of pirates far older than themselves to help guide him through the confusing, worrying process of something so foreign to him. Deuce rather suspects Ace learned the same way as him, if Thatch’s drunken ravings were anything to go by, the chef not hiding the fact that he had imparted his wisdom of ‘bedroom activities’ onto the younger commander, much to Ace’s utmost horror and humiliation.

Deuce, however, had sought help from a different, less talkative source. He recalls with perfect clarity the moment he had gone to Marco, his divisional commander and medical mentor, stuttering and sweaty-palmed, asking if he could have a private word. Marco, to give him credit where credit was due, had not laughed, had not asked why Deuce wanted to know the specifics of intercourse with a man, and had not questioned why he came to him, of all people, with these queries. It had been an embarrassing conversation on Deuce’s part, not quite able to handle Marco’s complete frankness and lack of shyness about the subject, telling Deuce precisely what he needed to know and much, much more. Marco had even given him condoms from the medical bay’s stash, something that Deuce had forgotten about and yet knew would be necessary, and Marco had grinned bright and wide when Deuce had tripped over his words in thanks.

“I do,” Deuce says quickly, desperate to show that he wants this still, that he wants it more than he has ever wanted anything else, “I was told— I mean, I made sure to—” he stumbles over his words, the reality of the situation suddenly hitting him with the force of a train. He is about to touch Ace more intimately than ever before, and damn, he is so nervous.

Ace watches him with dark eyes for a moment, and Deuce wonders briefly if he is going to offer to swap their positions and take the lead. He wouldn’t object, he is fairly sure, being more than happy to have Ace explore his body instead and make him feel things he has never fully achieved in his own moments of curiosity. But he still wants this, and now that he has come this far he wants to see it through, to make Ace feel better than he has ever felt in his life, and that pressure that Deuce applies to himself renders him more nervous than he probably would otherwise be.

But then Ace reaches out and lays a hand over Deuce’s that holds the bottle, and he smiles gently at him. “It’s all right,” he says quietly, “you’ll be amazing.”

And that is all the encouragement he needs, apparently.

Deuce ducks his head in a nod and says, “it’ll be easier on you if you’re on your stomach.” He glances up to see Ace looking at him with a soft expression that doesn’t quite mask the hunger still lingering about his eyes, and he feels that jittery, excited tingle of love again just like that night Ace had first kissed him. He feels wanted and loved, wholly ready for whatever is to come next and to just go with it and feel rather than sit and worry.

Ace moves to position himself accordingly, breath hitching as he turns over and lays his hips down on top of the pillow that Deuce places beneath him, propping him up a little just like Marco told him to do. Ace’s knees part and Deuce slides into place between them after pressing a fast, heated kiss to his lover’s lips. His gaze trails up the backs of Ace’s thighs, lingering momentarily on the tan line created by his shorts, sliding higher to the curve of his ass before coming to rest between his cheeks at—

A hand shoves through his own hair and tangles among the knots that Ace had dragged through, his chest constricting. “_Ace_,” his breath leaves him in a wheeze, sticky in his throat, “you’re _incredible_.”

Ace just buries his face into the pillow left up top for his head, the edge of a pink, freckled cheek just visible to Deuce, and he hears him mutter something that sounds rather like a rebuke. Deuce smiles to himself as he pops open the cap of the little bottle and pours a generous amount into his right palm.

The flat of Deuce’s dry left palm touches soft to Ace’s back, stroking soothing patterns over his spine and trailing his fingers over the warm skin of his tattoo. Ace twitches when he is touched far more intimately, the cool of the lube slick to his entrance, and Deuce exhales the breath he had been holding. A flash of self-awareness races through Deuce and he is suddenly too aware of where he is touching, that he can feel the soft clench of muscle tensing and relaxing on reflex under his finger. He strokes a digit over the tight ring of muscle gently, as gently as he can manage, and he is certain that his pulse must be palpable through his fingertip from the strength of his racing heartbeat.

“If you want to stop at any point,” Deuce murmurs, hardly believing that he is finally saying those words, the line he has rehearsed all day and the weight of it hanging heavy in his breath, “then I will stop. I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with, even if—” his heart flutters against his ribcage, “even if I’m i-inside you at the time. Just say the word and we’ll stop straight away.” He bends at the waist, presses a kiss to the base of Ace’s spine, and holds back a groan at the sensation of him trembling at the soft touch. “I love you; I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

Ace nods against the pillow, peeking back at Deuce around his tattooed bicep, his vision partially obscured by his hair. “Okay,” he breathes, “I trust you.”

Ah, Deuce really, truly does love him something stupid.

His finger slides a little more insistently at the heated skin, not quite breaching the entrance but not leaving any doubt of his intent, either. Ace sighs into the pillow, fists curling there and his eyes drifting shut. Deuce knows this is from focus and nothing else, allowing Ace to concentrate on the sensations he is being subjected to and shutting out the rest of the world. Deuce watches what he can see of Ace’s face carefully, ready to stop at the first sign of pain, and he presses just a little firmer against him.

“Are you ready?”

Ace nods. “Yeah.”

And Deuce presses firmer still, biting back the gasp at the sensation of breaching his captain.

Ace is tight, and hot, and the lube coating Deuce’s fingers makes the slide into his body so much more easy than he had anticipated once the initial resistance is pushed through. He watches with a curious sense of fascination as he slides in to the middle knuckle in one motion, biting his lip to withhold the groan that rumbles up his throat at the feel of him. The friction is delicious, the tight wrap of muscle holding him in place when he stops, and Ace’s breath stutters. Deuce feels the heat in his own cheeks rising at the very sudden, very present realisation that _he is inside Ace_.

“_Ah_,” is all he can manage for a moment, grounding himself by running his free hand up Ace’s spine again, stroking at his tense muscles. “Are you okay?” Ace nods quickly, and Deuce adds, “how does it feel?”

Ace frowns, his eyes still closed, and Deuce can tell it is borne from concentration more than discomfort. “Weird,” he admits, “I don’t know. But it doesn’t hurt, exactly, just…” Deuce watches his chest expand with a deep breath. “You can keep going, I’m okay.”

Deuce does as he is told, watching Ace’s face closely to make sure he isn’t hurting him, and he slides his finger back out again only to press it back in a little firmer. Ace tenses at the feeling, his shoulders going rigid, and Deuce leans up to lay kisses to them as he slides back out and inside in one slick motion, going all the way down to his third knuckle this time. He sets a steady rhythm, mouthing slow, easy kisses to Ace’s heated skin as he fingers him as gently as he can, himself feeling hot and bothered by that sweet, sensual pull and drag of warm, soft walls constricting him. It feels divine, he thinks, far better than he had anticipated and quite unlike the times he had touched himself. That had been so different, his body offering him immediate feedback to his uneducated presses inside, telling him when he was going too fast or too hard, and he was sure he hadn’t felt good to the touch like Ace does. Now all he has to go on is Ace’s reaction, the way he is visibly trying to relax to the intrusion.

Deuce pauses in his languid pace across Ace’s left shoulder blade when the resistance suddenly lessens around his finger, and Ace sighs through his nose in a manner that speaks of pleasure and not pain. Deuce’s nerves buzz and his blood runs a little hotter at this knowledge, and he has to work on his self-control to not speed up yet.

“How about now?” he mouths to Ace’s skin at the top of his tattoo, “still feel weird?”

Ace doesn’t answer at first, his eyes still closed to the constant, steady push and pull of Deuce’s finger working him open; he looks more relaxed, at least, Deuce notes with relief, the furrow in his brow completely gone and his blush darker than before.

“Yeah,” Ace says at length, eyelids fluttering open to look at Deuce through his hair over his shoulder, “but in a good way. It’s hard to explain. It’s…” he pauses, shuddering as Deuce pulls back within him, “kinda overwhelming, but kinda nice.”

Deuce hums against his skin before saying, “I’m going to add a second finger.” Ace whimpers at this, his eyelids sliding shut again as Deuce leans over him to press a kiss to his temple through sweat-streaked hair. “You’re doing so good.”

“So are you.”

Deuce inhales a shuddering breath at the tone of his voice, at the painfully crisp arousal there. He has to be doing _something_ right, he figures, to make Ace sound like that, to make his blush creep to the tips of his ears and down the back of his neck now. Deuce sits back on his knees and smooths his palm down the back of Ace’s thigh, pressing his fingers into the flexing muscles below the surface, and as he slides his finger out of his partner he adds a second along with it to press back in.

Ace tenses at the increased pressure immediately, and Deuce is met with that clamping, tight resistance once more. He strokes Ace’s thigh reassuringly, only the bare tips of his fingers within him. He pulls back gently before pressing in a little more firmly, and Ace trembles against the mattress, breathing slowly to remain calm. It is a beautiful sight, Deuce thinks absentmindedly, seeing Ace so open and bared for him like this, putting his entire trust and love into this one moment where he offers himself up more vulnerable than he ever has in his life. Deuce groans and aches hard between his own thighs, his body betraying his heart and urging him to hurry this up and slide inside Ace properly. But he won’t rush this, and he never would, fighting that primal instinct and overruling it with his need to make this incredible for his love.

His breath is pulled from him in a short huff when Ace relaxes almost completely again, the resistance at his fingers giving way enough to allow him to slide as deep as he can go. “That’s it,” he says quietly, watching the way his fingers dip into and slide out of Ace with a deep satisfaction, “just like that, Ace. How do you feel?”

“Good,” Ace replies, and he sounds like it is better than _good_, like he is beginning to enjoy this properly, his word a gust of a breathy sigh.

Deuce continues his steady rhythm for some minutes, and for a while it seems like perhaps he will not be able to do any better than Ace’s version of ‘good’, for while Ace certainly seems to be accustomed to the slick slide of Deuce’s fingers inside him now, he isn’t reacting how Deuce had hoped he would by now. He shifts his fingers a little and, by chance, hooks them downwards to press more solid against Ace’s anterior wall for one single slide into him.

And Ace tenses, and he moans loud, fingers scrabbling at the pillow, whining, “_Oh, Deuce_, there, that _there—_”

“Yeah,” Deuce says in a rush, having no idea what he just did, what he just touched, and the vague memory of Marco explaining something about _that spot _inside a man edges its way to the surface of his thoughts, “let me— I don’t know what I—”

He moves inside Ace, pressing and curling and _searching _until Ace is gasping below him again, arching up into his touch and pulling an expression of pure, wanton helplessness.

“_There_,” he hisses, and Deuce nods rapidly despite the fact that Ace’s eyes are squeezed shut, “fuck, that feels— so—” and he moans, muffling himself into the pillow, voice dripping with desire and leaving no room for doubt about how good Deuce’s touch is.

“What does it feel like?” Deuce asks, unable to help himself, utterly taken aback and bewildered - in the best possible ways conceivable - by Ace’s sudden reaction.

“Like—” Ace gasps, the sound low and rattling inside him, and he lifts his hips up a little to chase Deuce’s fingers as they slide out, “like pressure, like— _ah— _I don’t _know_.”

Deuce is leaking all over himself as he slides a third finger home alongside the first two, quite forgetting to warn Ace of the incoming stretch in his flustered state, unable to tear his eyes off Ace’s face. His jaw is slack, eyes screwed shut, and he is the picture of absolute pleasure in that moment. Deuce encounters less resistance with the inclusion of his third finger than he had when adding his second, and it only takes a few slick thrusts for Ace’s body to relax and adapt and _enjoy _what he is subjecting it to.

“This is unbelievable,” Deuce mutters, more to himself than to Ace, “you’re _so sexy_, Ace.” Because he is; Ace is better in person than he has ever been in Deuce’s vivid daydreams; he feels and sounds unlike anything Deuce could ever dream up, and he knows without a doubt that it had all been worth the wait, worth the planning and the nerves and the incessant teasing from Thatch after the chef had caught them kissing one night.

Ace buries his face back into the pillow, groaning a frustrated noise that quickly dissolves into a hot, keening cry of pleasure as Deuce’s fingertips drag sure over his prostate. Deuce meets virtually no resistance anymore, moving slick inside him with ease and precision, now that he knows where to aim.

“Ace,” Deuce says, voice gravelly and strained; he is too worked up, too aroused to continue like this now, the heat and wet of Ace’s body driving him mad with want, “I think you’re ready.”

Ace’s head snaps up and he is looking at Deuce like he has never seen him before, all wide-eyed and trembling and positively wired. Unspoken words pass between them, feelings of love, of care, of complete and absolute trust and devotion given life through their carefully nurtured connection. Ace’s lashes flutter dark on his skin as he blinks, never dropping his gaze, and he nods.

Deuce is leaning over him in a heartbeat, reluctantly pulling his fingers free from his gripping heat as gently as possible to cup his face and kiss him. Ace moans into the contact and rolls underneath him to lie on his back, arms coming to loop around his neck and pull him down properly. Deuce cards his unlubed fingers through Ace’s hair affectionately, parting his lips to the kiss and tasting his favorite flavor of Ace hungrily.

Fingers pat around on the nightstand for the condoms that Ace had strategically put there, both of them having decided that it made more sense for him to keep them in his room rather than Deuce chance having them found among his belongings by someone in his division. Ace locates them and presses one to Deuce’s chest, no hesitation in his eyes when Deuce leans back to study his face. He wants this, it is clear, and he wants it _bad_, as badly as Deuce himself does.

“I can’t believe,” Deuce says quietly before he can stop himself, “that we’re finally going to be bonded.”

Ace snorts, then giggles, and it then morphs into a full-blown laugh, making him quiver and shake even harder at the frown that tugs at Deuce’s brows. “How do you not get embarrassed when you say shit like that?” he chuckles, the heated tension that had lain thick over them like a heavy blanket suddenly thrown off in that moment.

Deuce huffs, feigning upset. “I’m being romantic,” he pouts, and Ace just snorts a laugh again.

“You’re making me cringe.”

And smiling lips are pressed to his before he can snap a retort, and he scoops Ace up in his arms to kiss him totally senseless. He is grateful for the tiny break, to be reminded that they are still just themselves, still Ace and Deuce and their silly, teasing ways, and that nothing has - or will - changed.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Ace rips open the condom packet between his teeth, flicking away the foil over the side of the bed. Deuce follows his lead and sits back on his knees again; Ace follows and pauses, looking to Deuce for permission before acting. He doesn’t need it, not really, not now, but Deuce nods hurriedly, completely belying how badly he wants this, and Ace pinches the tip of the condom before rolling it over Deuce’s flushed head. He groans at the contact, the feeling strange and unfamiliar, and he watches with interest as Ace rolls it down to the root. He doesn’t know how Ace knows to pinch the tip, he himself only knowing because Marco had taken it upon himself to explain the significance, but for the moment he simply does not care.

“Ace,” he breathes against warm lips when Ace presses in close with a hum, “I need you on your front again.”

Ace looks at him for a long moment, his dark eyes lidded with lust as he searches Deuce’s own. He takes a breath, lets it leave him in a slow exhale, and asks, “because it’ll be easier on me?” Deuce nods, because why else would he willingly forfeit getting to watch Ace’s expression as they become one for the first time? But then - “yeah, that’s not a good enough reason.”

And Ace tugs him down to cover his body, lying back on the sheets and pulling Deuce with him. Ace’s tongue presses in with a low moan as he holds Deuce close by the neck, rendering him unable to speak, and Ace arches up against him, his hips rolling up and his cock dragging exquisitely firm against his own.

“Ace—” but Deuce is cut off by Ace kissing him hard, sliding messy against his lips and gasping into his mouth. He’s not going to change his mind, Deuce can tell, but he still needs to hear the reason despite already knowing it. He can’t help but moan into Ace’s mouth as he shifts beneath him, bending his knees to bring them up and press tight at Deuce’s sides; his hips rock forwards, and suddenly they are not sliding against each other anymore, the tip of Deuce’s cock is nudging at Ace’s entrance instead. “_Ace, _I’m—”

He braces himself more firmly, biceps tight and bunching alongside Ace’s head. His body is taut with tension, trembling with the effort of restraint over his captain, willing himself to not rush this, to not be controlled by the adrenaline surging through his veins and just ease himself inside in one hot, fluid motion. He angles up by a fraction and slides sticky up Ace’s perineum instead, the head of his cock nudging at his balls, and even through the condom Deuce can feel how hot Ace’s skin is. It makes him feel a little dizzy, very nervous, and infinitely hotter himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs as he breaks the kiss, dropping his face to nestle into the curve of Ace’s neck instead; he can _feel _the blood pounding in the artery beneath the skin, the warmth of him, his scent, “I want this to be good for you.”

Ace grips him a little tighter with his knees, pulls him in by the heels of his feet to the curve of Deuce’s ass, and cants his hips up when Deuce slips against him again. “You won’t,” he whispers, and Deuce positively drowns in the depths of his aroused tone. “I want to see your face as you—” he hesitates, seems to gather himself as he takes a breath, “as you come inside me.” Deuce groans at his words, presses a kiss to his neck that is wet and open-mouthed. “I can’t see you when I’m on my front.”

“Only if you’re sure—”

“I am.” And he sounds it, too, sounds like nothing would make him happier. “Stop worrying.”

That is asking for the impossible, Deuce knows, but he still tries, trusting Ace’s judgement. “Okay,” he nods, and he rears back, shifting his weight to one palm parallel with Ace’s chest, moving to grip himself and line up with Ace’s body. He breathes, simply breathes, for several beats of his heart, watching Ace do the same below him. He is beautiful, so very, _very _beautiful, like this, spread on his back, his dark hair a mess on the pillow, his freckles less prominent on his cheeks thanks to the darkness of the blush there. His chest rises and falls steadily, more steady than Deuce’s that houses his erratic heartbeat that feels like it is about to burst from him, and he watches him with a look of blissed out arousal. He is stunning, but he will never accept such a truth, Deuce knows. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

It is harder than he had imagined. This should be the easy part, all things considered, just a simple press of his hips forwards into the tight hold of heat. But he has to guide himself sure against the resistance he meets, his gaze flickering between his slow press inside and Ace’s eyes, careful to watch for a sign that he should stop, but never finding one. Ace does not shut his eyes like Deuce expected, watching him through narrowed lids and holding onto him by the shoulders. Deuce stifles a moan as he sinks into him inch by inch, hyper-aware of his actions, of what he is doing, of the very present, real moment of actually making love to Ace.

He’s unable to hold back the groan when he bottoms out, though, head dropping forwards with a gasp of breath at the feel of Ace’s skin flush to his groin. A pulse, Ace’s heartbeat, pounds around his dick; it is fevered, fast, _excited_, and enforces the reality that they are bonded like nothing else does. He feels amazing, all tight and slick and holding him in place, and Deuce can feel him trembling underneath him.

“_Oh_,” he sighs, desperate to move, to pull out and snap his hips back in, “_Ace_, this is so— you’re so—” he struggles for coherency, blinking away the tears, of all things, that spring to his eyes. He should have done this ages ago, should have taken it all the way the night Ace became a commander and had got them off together straddling Deuce’s lap in their new hideaway, making full use of the private bedroom mere hours after Ace took ownership of it. His worries that he would disappoint had been wrong, he knows that well enough now, knows that Ace had only ever told him the truth that he didn’t want _a good fuck_, as he crudely put it to get his point across, he wanted _Deuce_, regardless of whether it was good, bad, or anything in between. Ace’s fingers running soft up his cheek brings Deuce back to him, and his heart positively melts at the sight of his warm, sure smile.

Ace finally drops his gaze and presses back into the pillow when Deuce moves within him by the barest of inches, shifting out and back in as he adjusts his knees on the mattress. Ace whines, his pitch higher than normal, and he arches gracefully. “You can move,” he breathes in an exhale, and he must have felt the way Deuce tensed with worry, “please, Deuce, I’m good. This feels—” he lays a palm to Deuce’s chest, right over his frantic heart, “I want to—”

“Okay,” Deuce says, his breath catching at the feel of Ace’s fingers trailing warm over his nipple, “okay, just… say something if—”

“I will.”

And he moves.

He is slow at first, drawing his hips back and pressing back in again in one motion, clenching his teeth at the sight of Ace’s mouth dropping open in a heated, low groan that leaves no room for doubt about how he is feeling. He rocks into the gentlest rhythm he can find, the slide into those soft walls addictive in the drag against his cock, the way he can feel Ace around him beginning to relax and soften. It feels a million times better than his fist, or Ace’s, or the drag of Ace’s length against his own, and he leans into Ace’s hold a little more.

The resistance lessens around him a little further still when Ace arches up again, sighing passionate and deep, his nails digging into Deuce’s arms. Ace begins to meet Deuce’s movements, pulling him in with his heels and rolling his hips to meet his thrusts every time, bodies working in tandem. Pleasure spikes in Deuce’s stomach and he groans, the sound pulled from the very depths of his soul; It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before, his body moving purely on instinct into Ace below him, his muscles trembling with the effort of it and his mind reeling with an ecstasy far sweeter than anything he knows. He lowers himself over Ace, surrounding him, bracing himself alongside his head again, and he kisses him slow, deep, their breath mingling and both melting into each other. Ace gasps when Deuce’s hips snap into him a little rougher and he seizes him by the nape of his neck, angling his face more to the side to lick over his tongue more urgently, encouraging him to _do it again_. Deuce reads him perfectly, swallowing his heated moan with fervor as he picks up his speed and intensity.

Ace follows his lips as Deuce breaks their kiss, whining at the loss before it becomes evident why Deuce has moved away. Ace’s hips buck up when Deuce’s fist encircles his cock, stroking him in his best effort to match their pace, thumbing through the precum at the head. He can hear nothing but the slick slide of his dick through the lube, Ace’s panting breath leaving him sharp and rough, and he knows that he will not last for long with all the stimuli he is being drowned in.

“Ace,” he gasps, his pace on his cock clumsy, moving out of time with his hips because it’s so much harder to retain finesse than he had thought it would be. Ace’s thighs flex at his sides, all lean, thick muscle that Deuce adores, his abdomen tensing sporadically, and Ace shoves his hand through his hair. He looks close to losing control, wild-eyed with lust and tugging Deuce in as hard as he can now. He wants to savour this moment forever, this feeling of being connected to him, of absolute pleasure eclipsing every other feeling in the world, of the slick, wet heat gripping him.

“_Oh, Deuce,”_ Ace’s sudden wanton moan has him staring at the way Ace squirms beneath him, “_like that, _so good, do it _again_.”

He has no idea what he did, what changed, but he mumbles, “yeah, just—” and does the only thing that makes any sense; he angles Ace’s hips, tilting them more with his own, and he aims the press inside him up and forwards, pressing and dragging surely along his prostate.

And Ace _writhes_, body trembling, cock pulsing precum over Deuce’s fist.

“_Deuce,”_ he moans his name, the name that _he _gave him, again, flailing to grab at him and finding purchase at his shoulders, “_more.”_

The words are raw, roughly dragged from Ace’s throat with desire and heat, and Deuce all but growls at the insistence in them. He speeds up, any worries of hurting Ace wiped away by the way his partner is gasping and moaning at his continuous pace, confident that he will not hold back in letting him know if something is wrong. He wants to kiss him, feel him completely, but to lean forward would mean to not be able to move his hand over Ace’s cock, and he looks so _close_, so undone so quickly and so wrecked. He is beautiful, glowing with a sheen of sweat, and Deuce feels it bead at his own brow, sliding down his neck and back with the effort of their love-making.

“You’re so close,” Deuce hisses, unable to stop himself, and feels that coil of heat deep inside him tighten at the way Ace nods vigorously. “God, you’re so beautiful, Ace.”

Ace pants and turns his face away, burying it in the pillow. The headboard rattles against the wall from their pace, and Deuce slows a little despite himself, despite everything, in his sudden worry that they will be heard. But nails dig into his shoulders, and Ace is hauling him closer, and he groans, “don’t stop.”

Noise be damned; his breath is exhaled from his lungs in one short, sharp pant, and his hips speed up again, driving into Ace faster and harder, going against his better judgement thanks to Ace’s moans of “Deuce, _Deuce, _that’s it, like that, _ah, Deuce_—”

And then Ace’s whole body goes tight beneath him, taut and quivering, and he spills hot and wet over Deuce’s fist, up his stomach, a little on his chest, gasping a rattling breath that sounds like it is pulled into his lungs with great difficulty.

Deuce is kissing him like his life depends on it the moment he feels him relax, bending Ace at the waist and pounding into him faster, harder, chasing his own end now that his lover has finished. Ace meets him wholly, wrapping his arms around his neck and hauling him closer still, whimpering against his tongue at the sensations that are surely coursing through his body. Deuce panics for the briefest of moments, worry cutting clear through the dense haze of utter pleasure - _is this too much? Is he in pain? _\- but it’s snuffed out almost immediately by Ace, as if he knows what he is thinking, groaning, “I love you, Deuce.”

His hips still after one final slap of skin to skin. His vision goes white. His breath is pulled from him in a harsh, rough sound and he spasms, releasing into the condom as deep as he can get into Ace. His nerves _sing _with the bliss of his orgasm and he manages, “_Ace,” _in a shuddering, stuttered breath.It transcends all thought and everything in existence in one perfect, glorious moment, rendering him boneless and weak as he slowly comes down from his incredible high.

Fingers card through his hair as he lays his cheek to Ace’s chest, the skin damp with sweat but warm. He cuddles into him and breathes, just breathes, through the aftershock of his orgasm. He feels drained but in the best of ways, dimly aware of the beat of Ace’s heart beneath him, of his life and his energy coursing through him. He belongs to this man, to his captain, in body, mind, and spirit, more completely now than ever before, and Deuce can’t fight the wave of messy emotions that sweep over him in that instant.

Ace’s thighs tremble as he pulls out gently, steadying himself with a palm to Ace’s stomach before he pulls off the condom and ties it off. He throws it to Ace’s little trash can by the desk, misses, and settles back down onto his chest with a shrug. He just wants to feel him in that moment, feel the way Ace kisses his forehead before returning to stroking his hair, and surround himself in that love.

“Thank you,” Ace says suddenly, his voice a rumble to Deuce’s ear pressed to his chest. Deuce grunts, confused, before answering.

“For what?” Ace hesitates, and Deuce lifts his head to look at him questioningly. “Ace?”

“For choosing me to be your first.”

Deuce can practically feel his heart melt at his partner’s words. He pulls himself up by his elbows to get closer to Ace’s face; Ace looks at him, his expression soft and tender, his freckled cheeks framed by his mess of hair, and Deuce brushes the dark strands back behind his ears. “You’re the only person I’ll ever want,” Deuce says seriously, trying his best to put all of his truth and his adoration for his captain into his voice, his words, “I love you. I love everything about you, Ace. _Everything_.” He repeats himself when Ace raises an eyebrow at him. “You were so good,” he adds, cupping one of Ace’s cheeks and smiling gently at him, “so _passionate_.”

Ace groans and rolls his eyes up to stare at the ceiling instead, looking like he very much wants to disappear from under Deuce. “I can’t believe I said all that,” he admits.

Deuce just shakes his head. “I like it,” he says too quickly, “I _really _like it.”

Ace just huffs a laugh and allows himself to be pulled into a kiss.

They clean up after a while, neither in any hurry to move away from each other’s warmth or to really bring an end to their first time. They climb back into Ace’s tiny bed again, though, snuggling up in each other’s hold to drift off to sleep happy, sated, and very much in love.

* * *

They are rudely awoken the next morning by Thatch quite literally walking in without so much as a knock. Deuce, who is already awake and had been quite enjoying himself simply watching Ace sleep, hurriedly dives under the blanket and pulls it up over his head, hiding in a totally futile attempt at fooling Thatch into thinking Ace is alone.

“Morning,” the chef grins slyly, folding his arms and leaning against the wall; Ace stirs, awake now, and he groans at the sight of his fellow commander. “Had a good night, did you? I know you’re there, by the way, Deuce.”

But Deuce doesn’t move, holding the blanket firmly over his head even as Ace sits up beside him, having no desire whatsoever to see the smug look of satisfaction on the man’s face.

“What?” Ace grumbles groggily, frowning at Thatch and scratching his head, “what’re you here for?”

Thatch tuts dramatically. “I came to congratulate you! You two have been wanting to jump each other for _ages_, and now that you’ve finally fucked each other senseless—”

“Says who?” Ace interrupts, and Deuce can feel him getting hotter with humiliation. Not that he himself is much better, feeling his cheeks light up as he becomes very aware of the fact that Thatch can definitely see his feet sticking out over the end of the bed.

Thatch snorts hard. “So your bed hammering into the wall you share with me was my imagination, was it? And you moaning Deuce’s name at the top of your lungs was just you having a friendly chat with him?” Deuce feels Ace go rigid against him and hears him splutter something, and Deuce himself wants to die of embarrassment. He _knew _he shouldn’t have gone so hard. Of all the times for Thatch to actually be in his room… “And you are painfully unsubtle, my dear boy. Why else would you ask me how to put on a condom? You’re so cute, both of you.”

Deuce actually groans at this - so that was how Ace knew.

Ace snorts a laugh to rival Thatch’s. “I still don’t get why you had to demonstrate by putting one on over your damn foot. An explanation would have been good enough.”

Thatch just chortles before saying, “anyway boys, stay where you are; I’ll go get you some breakfast. At least one of you probably won’t be able to walk, if you were as good as I heard.” Again, Deuce felt something inside him die with shame. “Who topped, by the way? I’m assuming it was Deuce since you were yelling his name so much, but you never know.”

Deuce feels Ace move and suddenly twist; Thatch yelps and laughs as the sound of something solid smacks into wood - Ace had thrown the bottle of lube at him.

“Hey, I just need to know so I can claim my winnings!” Thatch says, clearly amused.

“You _bet _on us?”

“I’ll take that to mean that I was right. Thanks, boys! Vista owes me basically half of everything he has on him. I’ll treat you to something good for breakfast as thanks!”

And he leaves, thankfully, with a laugh as Ace growls.

With a little bit of luck, though, the bet and the gossip hasn’t left the other commanders, and Deuce will be left in peace by the rest of his division, and Ace will not have to be subjected to teasing from his.

But it is hard to care about those sorts of things when Ace slides down under the blanket too, calming quickly and snuggling up to Deuce again. He kisses him briefly, grins at him, and then pulls him in for a proper, slow, explorative and sensual glide of lips and tongue and tender touches.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I literally can't believe I wrote this.
> 
> Feedback is very much appreciated because I really can't get over the fact that I hammered out a 10k PWP piece.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://aishitekuretearigatou.tumblr.com/) where I reblog One Piece and rant/vent about things to do with my writing/life


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